


Crying Lightning

by whatcolourmyeyes



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcolourmyeyes/pseuds/whatcolourmyeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Loki and Darcy grow up together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crying Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a songfic :/  
> Many thanks to the Arctic Monkeys

_Outside the café by the cracker factory_  
 _You were practicing a magic trick_  
 _And my thoughts got rude,_  
 _As you talked and chewed_  
 _On the last of your pecan mix_

They first meet when Darcy is twelve years old. Despite the hot New Mexico sun, his skin is pale white, and it flushes pink in the heat. “Are you from around here?” she asks. He shakes his head and doesn’t answer her, but she notices his hands fiddling with a deck of cards. She asks him if he can do magic. He smirks and ignores her. _Jerk_. Darcy glares at him and turns on her heel as she hears her mother calling for her from the front porch.

She promptly forgets about the mysterious new boy, and is surprised when she sees him walking into her class that Monday. The teacher invites him to stand at the front of the classroom, and introduces him as “Loki Odinson.” He looks stiff as all eyes turn on him, but his posture almost makes it seem that he is evaluating his classmates, and not the other way around. His piercing green eyes meet her cautious blue ones, and he gives her a slight, almost imperceptible, nod.

He comes over and sits in the empty chair beside her, and she blushes despite herself as everyone focuses on her new desk mate. “Please turn to page twenty-one,” says the teacher in an exasperated tone. Loki stares straight ahead, pulling out his textbook. He doesn’t appear to notice the appreciative glances of the other girls in the class as they each give him a casual once-over. Felicity Greene even winks at Darcy and loudly asks her about her new boyfriend. Darcy eats lunch alone that day, angrily munching on her peanut butter sandwich as she watches the others sit together under the monkey bars. Her bad mood doesn’t last long; she comes back to the classroom to find Felicity upset because the contents of her pink backpack are spread across her desk. One girl lets out a snort as she notices the note paper covered in messages like ‘Felicity & Jake’ surrounded in gaudy pink hearts. Felicity turns a matching shade of fuchsia.

“Subtle,” Darcy whispers out of the corner of her mouth as Loki takes his seat. He doesn’t answer, but she sees his lips twitch into the semblance of a smile.

It’s only later that she wonders how he managed it.

_Your past times consisted of the strange,_  
 _The twisted and deranged_  
 _And I loved that little game you had, called "Crying Lightning"_  
 _And how you like to aggravate the ice-cream man on rainy afternoons_

Darcy’s mother doesn’t like the new boy across the street – she says his parents have ‘airs.’ There are only rumours, of course, but something isn’t quite right about the Odinsons.

Loki and his brother, Thor (already taller than the other boys, and twice as strong), have a knack for pranks. The ice cream truck has stopped coming by the truck due to the convenient cracks of thunder that sounded every time it drove by. It was fun while it lasted: the harried-looking man behind the counter was always quick to sell as much as possible before the rain hit. It never did, but Darcy could have sworn that she saw lightning flash.

_The next time that I caught my own reflection It was on its way to meet you_  
 _Thinking of excuses to postpone_  
 _You never looked like yourself from the side_  
 _But your profile could not hide_  
 _The fact you knew I was approaching your throne_

Weeks pass, and they start walking home together after school. Silently, Loki offers Darcy his last gobstopper, his shaggy black hair shielding his face from view. Eyes not meeting his, she accepts. And so they enter a truce of sorts, which gradually turns into an unspoken alliance. They never acknowledge each other, even as they make their way to their street, side by side, but they quietly defend each other, and wordlessly pass homework sheets back and forth under their desks. Outsiders have to band together, after all.

Even as the other kids grow out of card tricks, Loki keeps practicing his magician’s act. There is something about the seriousness in his green eyes, the set of his shoulders, that makes him look less childish. When he knows that Darcy is the only one watching (he can always tell when she is peeking; she’s grown bolder, studying him closely from over the neighbour’s fence), he is less guarded in his movements. Darcy soon realizes that he can sense her presence, but she stays silent anyway, preferring to stay in the shadows. Part of her thinks it would be smarter to go back home and eat the Oreos that she knows are waiting for her, but each afternoon, she finds herself watching him.

When he knows that no one else can see him, his motions are smoother, faster. Darcy can never catch him at the precise moment that slight of hand takes over and the audience is fooled. She begins to fancy that any slowness on his part is actually feigned, and that, without a viewer, he has no need to reassure anyone that it’s just a trick, that he’s only human. She isn’t quite sure that he is.

But of course that’s just silly. Darcy recalls her mother’s lectures about her and her imagination: _Really, Darcy honey, you’re fourteen years old. Shouldn’t you be out making some friends?_

_With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache_  
 _Stood and puffed your chest out like you'd never lost a war_  
 _And though I tried so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction_  
 _There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw_

“Do you like him?” Loki asks.

Now seventeen, his six-foot-two frame is all taut skin and tensed muscles as he leans against Darcy’s locker. He crosses his arms as his narrowed eyes follow the retreating figure. Thor gives the guy a slap on the back as he joins the rest of the jocks. Always friendly and eager to lend a helping hand, the older Odinson has grown more and more popular, while Loki has stayed on the sidelines, ignoring the increasing number of passing glances directed at Thor’s ‘mysterious brother.’

Darcy has still never been on a date – she refuses to accept that this has anything to do with a certain green-eyed friend – and Darcy blushes at the idea that she would want to be with one of the footballers. Thor’s a sweetie, but witty repartee isn’t exactly his forte. “I- no, of course not.”

“These high-school guys aren’t good enough for you,” Loki adds. It seems like more of a reassurance to himself than anything else. “Of course,” she says, rolling her eyes. “They’re beneath you, all of them. These silly small-town teenagers, they aren’t worth your time.”

“Right.” He almost misses the growing tension in Darcy’s tone.

“And what about me?” There is no mistaking the hurt in her voice now.

Loki turns toward her as she slams the locker shut harder than is strictly necessary. “You’re not like them.”

It’s about as much as she could really hope for from him, but she lets out a sigh as she hugs her bio textbook tighter and walks to class.

_And your past times consisted of the strange,_  
 _The twisted and deranged A_  
 _nd I hate that little game you had called "Crying Lightning"_  
 _And how you like to aggravate the icky man on rainy afternoons_

“Really, Loki?” Darcy has gotten angry with him before, but today is the final straw. “You _had_ to play the protective brother card.” Shoving her fake I.D. back into her clutch, Darcy attempts to stomp away as gracefully as possible while wearing six-inch heels. “He was a creep,” Loki protests. “All I did was ask if he had heard of the Odinsons.” At 6 foot 2, Darcy doubts that anyone would want to mess with the infamous Loki, let alone his football all-star brother, but she bites her tongue, returning to the subject at hand. “I am sick of you treating me like a child,” she spits out, as she narrowly avoids a puddle. “Then don’t act like one.” Loki glares. “God, Darcy, you’re- you’re so…” “So… what?” Darcy is positively fuming. Loki stutters awkwardly. “So b-” He stops himself but his pale cheeks flush. “So bloody stubborn.” _Beautiful._ That’s what he wanted to say. _So beautiful and so deserving of someone better._

Darcy sniffs and reaches out a hand to hail down a cab. “You can go,” she hisses. Loki gives her a pained look, but doesn’t say anything, instead pulling out an umbrella and holding it over her head.

“I’ll drive you home,” he offers.

“I don’t need a ride from you.”

“Darcy-”

“No.”

He walks away, and she feels tears start to run down her cheeks. The flash of headlights brings her back to reality and she sees Loki drive up.

“Get in.” His tone is uncompromising.

She considers turning away, but Darcy’s defiant streak lasts all of five seconds – it’s cold outside, and she forgot her jacket in the backseat – and with a defeated grunt, she slides into Loki’s car.

“Seatbelt?”

Stony-eyed, Darcy buckles herself in and sits stiffly as Loki pulls out of the parking lot.

_Uninviting_  
 _But not half as impossible as everyone assumes_  
 _You are crying lightning_

“For what it’s worth…”

“Oh shut it. You won’t mean it, anyway.”

“Would you believe me if I said I was worried about you?”

Darcy can feel tears prickling at the backs of her eyes, and wishes that the traffic weren’t so slow. He’s a good liar, but he’s not that good – the gruffness in his voice is genuine, and part of her wants to just forgive him and forget about it. But she isn’t willing to let him do this again; only showing he cares when someone seems to be invading on what he has deemed his claim. She tries to come up with a snarky comeback, but her breath catches in her throat and all that comes out is a little hiccup.

Her vision is getting blurry now, and without another word, Loki pulls off onto a side street and neatly parks the car.

Darcy turns her head toward him, reading to break out a snappy retort – her now unconcealable tears be damned – but Loki looks unusually serious, and dammit, she can’t stop her eyes from being drawn to his thin, pursed lips. Normally so self-assured, Loki’s breaths are now shakier; he lifts one hand and tentatively strokes her cheek, waiting for her to push him away. When no such complaint arises, he tilts her chin upwards and brings his mouth down on hers. It is a possessive, all-consuming kiss, one that seems to set all of her on fire and almost makes Darcy forget that she’s angry at him. She pulls back abruptly and glares up at him. In this moment, his face is a jumble of emotions, and for once she can see the vulnerability behind his cocky façade in the apprehension that flits across his face.

“I’m still mad at you,” she grumbles. He smirks.

“You’ll get over it.”

“God, why’d it take you so lo-”

“Darcy, you talk too much.” Before she can let out an indignant squawk, Loki has deftly recaptured her lips in another perfect, searing kiss. And though she’ll never admit it, Darcy melts a little as she pulls him closer.

 _Well we might not be the perfect partners  
_ _But tonight we make a pair._


End file.
